Violet and the Partner in Crime to Literature
by ASBusinessMagnet
Summary: After years of being trapped inside, Insane Guy of DOOM finally escapes Wonka's factory and continues to rescue the Business Magnet. But perhaps he (she?) doesn't need to be rescued at all. Sequel to Violet and the Horrible Fanfic Writer.
1. Retour

AN its been a long time since I wrote anythin I kno Ive been outta loop with fiction an English in general bu I finally can present something about my TRUE LIFE wiffa COMPLETE TYRANT. Thus I give u my first NON FICTION AND REEL LIFE story:

* * *

 **INSANE GUY OF DOOMS ESCAPE OF WONKAS FACTORY**

Chapter 1: Return

Hi ma name is Insaine Guy of DOOM an I had gotten trapped in Willy Wonkas chocolete factory after his tour. Wonka had restrained me an put me inne Inventing Room an made me work withe Oompaloompas. There was nothin fun about the work an I had begun to forget English during this time but now that Im writing these words everything is going to be okay. Also in case ure trackin references that was a reference to ITS MY LIFE!.

Anyway so I was working there an I pretty much lost count of how time is tracked inne outside world. I think it might be three thousan days later or somethin since that was dashes that the Oompaloompas kept but Wonka is always up to somethin inis trickery so it might not be correct since theres no dayligt there an it really put everthin in ma brain outta whack. This was getting to ma nerves so I decided to escape.

Luckily escapin to the outside world would be super easy since Wonkas glass elevator has the up an down button but the problem was gettin to the button. Somehow I had to convince Wonka that I was still working so I thougt for a long time until Oompaloompas began doin ma job. An idee thus shot me an I carefelly placed Oompaloompas so they would make the me shape an it would look like me an then I made a running through the Inventing Room.

Of course Wonka wouldent be Wonka if he hadnt noticed imeediately so we were runnin through facilities. The Oompaloompas knew that Im a good heir an Charlie (one who Wonka picked after the tour) was a bad heir who wandet to make everone into slaves so they kept makin Wonka fall over and laughin. That made Wonka mad so he took his cane and threw it at me an it twisted between my legs an I fell over.

Wonka caught my leg and was ready to put me back to work but I cold still reach the cane an therefore I twiddled my feet and got the cane in ma hands an hit his head an his hat flewoff straight into the chocolate river. Wonka new that he coldent reach the hat wifout the cane that I had an if he jumped in he wold ruin the chocolate river so he reached for my hand and stole the cane but I had the tip an bonked him over the head one las time.

Now was my chanse so I ran straight thru doors an searched fo Wonkas Great Glass Elevator. It is a thin that would let me escape if I hit a bottun named Up an Out so the only thin that I had to do was to fin that elevator an fin that button. After an hour of runnin I finally fond the elevator in an elevator hole an now I was only to relearn reedin so I cold read with cleer letters UP an OUT.

But then Wonka caught me in da elevator! I had to think fast so I hit a butoon at random an it led to a gingerbred village bu more importantli Wonka had to catch on da elevator an was sent flyin to Test Chamber 16. In Test Chamber 16 turrents shot at Willy so he deflected everythin with his candy cane an didnt die cause he knows how to not die in his own dessin conformin that hes GLaDOS. The bullets shot an Oompaloompa though an since hes small he lost a lot more blood propurtionally an he died.

Charlie finalle caught wind of everyhin an fond me at the gingerbred village so I pressed an elevator butten agane an it launched me to The Spiders. The Spiders are robots that you saw at the beginning of the moive where they wrap Wonkas bars so Charlie hung onto the elevator and made it to The Spiders and commanded to attack but I had already taken every Wonkas bar out of a box an was in the box and ready to be shipped.

Once I was safely in the truck I broke outtaf the shipping box and looked around. It seemed that I was gonno be shipped tu Paris and that wold be very far awey fro where I live in Florda cept I dont live in Florda anymore sins I got trapped in the factury. Thus it wos a final leep onto the street lick in Assassens Creed an I made ma run onto the areport an got into a plane befour Wonker could catch me.

I washed the factury streak by as it got smaller but then I noteced... WONKA AN CHARLIE WERE FOLLOWIN ME IN THE GLASS ELEVATOR! The fight wasent over so I ran out of the plane an onto the elevetor an sins I knew that the plane was goin towords Florda we were on the right track an therefore it was a final battel. I climbed into the elevetor and was redey to fight bu then Charlie warden me of somethin.

He said that we sholdnt fight durn the entire flight 2 Florda since well hit the elevetor buttons an crash the elevetor and this wold be a bad thin an we simply had to wate for the entere flight. So it was hoors of waitin and Wonka taught me interesting facts about English so I could speak alittle better. Also Charlie let me know that other ticketwinners are bad peoples an therefore I sholdent affilate with them.

The flight finally got to Florda and we were ready to resume flight but then I saw anothere levator bu this time fro Portal 2 in the sight. That ment that peoples thot I was never eve missin in the beginnin! I ran to my family an hugged and Charlie and Wonka couldnt argue that family is the best value ever so they decided to not fight and simply flew THEIR elevetor (the square one) back to Wonkas factory where they would work and make candy.

 **TO BE CONTINUED?**

* * *

AN I have no idee how to continue bu theres still ASBusinessMagnet in Violets body so maybe Ill pick up that? Review an let me know!


	2. Pensées

For an introduction: Violet Beauregarde. The Earth's resident giant blueberry, Olympic champion, currently "working" on parodies of songs on YouTube.

For a biography, consider these points:

Tuesday, December 6th, 1994. Not really a "point" I remember, but important nevertheless. Mostly grew up with my mother, since my father had gotten into some sort of accident. From a young age, I loved chewing gum and everything in between.

Tuesday, February 1st, 2005. Made the mistake of ever crossing paths with a dreaded "chocolatier" by the name of Willy Wonka. That's how the blueberry part got in. Got mocked afterwards, but soon enough learned to cover myself with face paint and everything, as Homestuck cosplayers do.

Monday, July 30th, 2012. Made the second mistake of ever crossing paths with someone from somewhere in who-cares-where-in-Europe, Rūta Meilutytė. That's how the Olympic part got in. Also realized I was making a third mistake, which was "doing everything my mother tells me to", and somehow led me to earning 612 wins. Yes, I counted.

Monday, September 2nd, 2013. Some kid in the same who-cares-where-in-Europe place tagged along me, believing he is me (when anyone with half a brain could tell that he isn't). I did the only sensible thing in my nonsensical life, that is, shipped him off to my mother, just so she can tell "that isn't my daughter" forever and ever.

Sunday, February 1st, 2015. Well, today. Assuming nothing groundbreaking happens today, while I'm in... *sigh* Paris, France.

And something, of course, happens. Not exactly groundbreaking, but still something. The first thing in the day, just after I get out of my covers and get dressed, my mother messages me on Skype, congratulating me on surviving ten years after being the blueberry and everything. She knows that I'm the favorite thing for anyone to pick on, and therefore I must be strong and fight through the insults. That, or just coat my face some more, and make it a pale white, rather than a glaring light blue.

She then asks me on my whereabouts, and I tell her I'm in Paris and everything. I, myself, have no idea how I ended up here, as well as all the other places besides here, so she doesn't inquire about it, but then, it hits me. It is no longer Scarlett Beauregarde who's writing to me on Skype, but instead "Scarlett Gall", and she's telling me that since I'm in Paris, I should visit her sister, Isabelle Gall.

Wow. So now instead of just not finding my place in the world, it's all about visiting relatives I have no idea about. Or at least, that's close to what I type, and she just types back a smiley face. She probably already knows all my moods, and flat out ignores me. She then says that she's calling Isabelle, so that this stuff would be at least somewhat organized. I close my laptop, knowing that I will be confronted on my phone. I hear Skype one more time, and I open my laptop to see that my mother told me that I should beware, because she doesn't know any English, so I should speak to her in French. Oui, je peux ça faire, [Yes, I can do that], I type back and close the laptop again.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation that you do not need to know about, Isabelle calls. She doesn't say much; she just tells me the address, and listens as I stumble on French numbers once again, since it's an objective fact that they don't make sense. I finally get the address written down, hang up, pack up my laptop and take a hike from whatever hotel room I'm stuck in to the address in question. With Google Maps. Because they have been invented "yet".

I ring the door, and Isabelle answers. She looks to be nearly seventy, with the same blonde hair as me, except without purple streaks, which I actually dye in, to give myself an unique look, and also except she just lets them grow out to about shoulder-length, rather than doing whatever the hell I do. We exchange the "bonjour"s [hellos], she invites me in and makes me some tea while I just stare at what looks like my trophy room, except it's hers. In the center, there is something that looks like my mother's baton trophy, except it's dated 1965 instead of 1969, and it looks like an old-fashioned microphone.

I begin reading what's written on it and one detail sticks out. As a prank, some idiot decided to write the name of the country where Isabelle is from, making the award one for "France Gall". I giggle slightly, but then I read another word and my expression suddenly becomes rather serious.

Eurovision.

I have been invited to the house of, and apparently am related to, one of the sixty or so winners of the Eurovision Song Contest itself.


	3. Chanson

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, the Eurovision Song Contest is basically the Hunger Games, except it takes place in Europe, is fought with songs and Lithuania has no chance of winning it, eve-I mean I wouldn't have any idea about that, since I only know of who-cares-where-in-Europe as the place where Miss Meilutytė is from, and I have no connections to Europe whatsoever.

Well, that is a lie. I have at least _some_ connections to Europe, and that is emphasized by the fact that I'm standing here, in this house, holding a cup of tea (that Miss "France" Gall had to put in my hand, because I had been spacing out in her home), looking at this trophy. Given that I didn't even know who the person was earlier in the day, I am literally speechless, and therefore the standing goes on for quite a bit.

Of course, it wouldn't even necessarily have to be Miss Gall's trophy. I could just be staring at the Golden Ticket, but last time I tried that, people assumed that somehow, Wonka had printed a sixth one and that I wasn't Violet. Even though it was established, moments later, that I am. Violet Beauregarde, resident blueberry of... and this is where I just go into PTSD mode and just plain don't think of anything.

Before I can do something stupid like drop the cup of tea, Miss Gall asks me: "Tu t'étais tue pour un moment. Dites-moi quelque chose au ton sujet." [You have been silent for a while. Tell me something about yourself.] She sounds like literally no one I've met before, since she doesn't mock me for being a blueberry; I suppose that it comes from the fact that we are relatives.

Of course, I have no idea where to begin. If I mention anything about the whole giant blueberry deal, the contemplation is only going to get worse, and besides, since she was just sitting... here, she probably already knows everything, from giant blueberry to the Olympics. Therefore, I only say: "Maintenant, j'ai quelques chansons en YouTube." [Right now, I have several songs on YouTube.] As I laugh a bit, she looks at me and smiles as if she was a child; say, me when I first got to Wonka's factory. Therefore, I know that she is immediately colored interested, and I open my laptop.

I go to the channel, which I named "Vi 'Garde" to mock a certain someone I'm not supposed to know about since she's all about mathematics and I'm not, and Miss Gall curiously looks. I open a video of me in a parody of Gangnam Style, and she just knows that she's been missing out on at least a decade of musical evolution. She, of course, doesn't understand any lyrics since she doesn't speak English, because she is literally the French Republic and I'm making a fool out of myself. (And also, I'm a giant blueberry. But everyone knows that.)

Once the song is finished, she only says: "C'est très interessant. Je veux être en YouTube." [It's very interesting. I want to be on YouTube.] What she doesn't know, however, is that you don't need to have a YouTube channel to be everywhere on the site, and surely enough, a search for "France Gall" brings up more results than you could ever hope to watch. Since I'm interested in whatever this Eurovision thing is (that I don't know about since I'm American), I also add "Eurovision" to the search keyword without her looking (not an easy thing to do, since she also hasn't seen a laptop in her life), and bring up the song.

As the song begins playing, though, I realize my own mistake. Very likely, I just sent Miss Gall into the same cathartic contemplation that I go into on a regular basis, and very likely went into while in this very house, even though I didn't really do anything. She begins singing, along to the video, since it's her song and she obviously knows the lyrics to it more perfectly than I could ever know them:

 _Je suis une poupée de cire, une poupée de son_  
 _Mon cœur est gravé dans mes chansons_  
 _Poupeé de cire, poupée de son_

 _Suis-je meilleure, suis-je pire qu'une poupée de salon?_  
 _Je vois la vie en rose bonbon_  
 _Poupeé de cire, poupée de son_

I have had plenty of moods like this in... pretty much all of my life, and therefore I just know how to deal with them. I shut off the video that never did anything good for humanity, and Miss Gall looks at me. "Tes parodies semble très excitantes. Je veux aller au Naples avec toi." [Your parodies seem to be very fun. I want to go to Naples with you.]

I have no idea why she brought parodies up again, since she was just watching and singing along to her own song, but I nod. "Rendez-vous dans l'aéroport," [Let's meet at the airport.] I say and wave goodbye. I thus head back into my hotel room to pick up the stuff that always goes with me on journeys, including mementos like the Olympic medal and everything.


	4. Naples

When I end up at the airport, Isabelle is not there. (We've agreed to call her Isabelle, since she is not the French Republic, and in retrospect, that pseudonym was just so she could sing for Luxembourg with everyone still knowing where she is actually from.) I keep trying to call her, but get no response. Thus, I disdainfully type her number, but something completely unrelated shows up. It is a text message from some number (I can tell it's American because it begins with a +1), saying "Hey Bissness Man (aka Violey), where ar you?"

Of course, I know immediately that whoever typed this is even more pretentious than I am. Not only does he- er, _do they_ know that I am Violet and that I will be at the other end of this message, there is also the second part, which is them assuming something completely impossible; that two people could have swapped bodies via, don't say it, "magic", and as far as I know, this world is built upon science (except for Wonka's factory).

Therefore, I type back this message, with as much thought as I could bother putting in a text message: "What is actually going on there?" I presume the insane person at the other end is thinking about his doom or something (get it), and soon enough, the reply appears: "its in your vidoes =P anyways answer ma quesshun". I begin typing something just as cryptic, but then lose the message as Isabelle calls me.

"Derrière toi." [Behind you.] She says as if she were two people, but then I realize that it's simply her playing her tricks. She then giggles, and I think that she has laughed more during the short time we had together than I have during my entire life. I hang up the call and proceed to turn off my phone, because I know that we'll be boarding a flight soon, and it's not like I will have the need to communicate with anyone. Famous people aren't on Facebook all the time, folks.

* * *

There is about as much history in Naples as there is in Paris; i.e. the whole city is basically all about history. I don't get it, and I never will. At least for Paris, there are things everyone knows about, like the Eiffel Tower and... that church, but here, all you know is that the city exists. Also, they speak Italian, and I am one to always pick up subtle differences between the Romance languages. It is the one thing that irritates me in general, and in specific since I am on this particular trip.

And yet, Isabelle doesn't mind. She seems to have her own set of memories associated with the place, and they're probably not happy ones, since she has stopped laughing for some reason. Of course, when I say this, someone adapting this story into a movie would probably add a laugh track, but no one cares, as real life just so happens to be more boring than movies.

Isabelle thus takes me to a studio for some television or something, because apparently Eurovision was built upon television companies that had formed an union. She speaks stuff in Italian which I don't quite understand, since this isn't France, but as I expect, the people working at the studio are amazed that "France Gall still remembers us after fifty years!" and show us around.

They even have the old scoreboard back from 1965. Everything is written in this weird pseudo-French language which actually is Italian, but still readable, and I find that indeed, "Lussemburgo (L)" has scored most points. Before I can find the Soviet Union, though, Isabelle tackles me and sends me crashing to the board. The board doesn't break, but is close to breaking, and I remind her to not goof around _that_ much.

* * *

According to Isabelle's plan that she formulated literally during the flight, we are to record the song that she sang back then, but with my methods of making song parodies. Each of us is thus handed a paper that the people at the studio printed, containing the exact lyrics to the song. A bit of the problem, though, is that the lyrics don't literally mean what they mean, and that was the deal breaker that separated Isabelle and her songwriter, someone named Gainsbourg, apparently.

The next few hours thus are just us, memorizing the song lyrics, trying not to shock her. It is easy to not shock me, since there are no mentions of blueberries or chocolate in the song, and even if the people at the studio were laughing behind our back about the giant blueberry girl, I don't recognize the Italian words for "blueberry" or "chocolate" or "Wonka" and therefore am unable to get mad at them. As far as I care, they are going to help me with another song parody.

Eventually, though, the studio closes up, and I and Isabelle continue chatting. It turns out that my French was much worse than I thought, and everything else is just us laughing about how I messed something up and it ended up being a sexual reference. Luckily, when I look at the lyrics, none of those sexual references are in there, and after singing the song, my reputation is probably going to be clean.

I certainly hope that will turn out to be this way, because if Wonka is going to get on my case, he will learn that he picked on the wrong girl.


	5. Commentaires

Say what you want about the process of creating a music video and getting to collaborate with people, but I will always be impartial towards the comments I receive on my YouTube videos. The stupidity of them is so glaringly obvious, sometimes I wonder if any of these people is actually real.

As a case in point, have a sample from the collaboration that I and Isabelle did. Though you could actually search for "France Gall feat. Violet Beauregarde - Poupée de cire, poupée de son (50th Anniversary Edition)" and look for the comments there, I'm just listing my favorites here.

* * *

 **Sophie Aldaide** 7 hours ago  
Not only did France Gall not age a single day, she also updated to a more modern look. Look at those blue streaks.

 **Hide replies**

 **Vi 'Garde** 6 hours ago  
That's me, you idiot.

 **tacofalafel** 4 hours ago  
no way i thought u were a giant blueberry

 **Vi 'Garde** 4 hours ago  
The Juicing Room exists, okay?

 **LionWingenedMunki39** 2 hours ago  
That comic was classic. Even Vi 'Garde agrees.

 **TheTimeDocLol** 19 minutes ago  
OUR GODDESS VI GARDE HAS SPOKEN

 **The Game Theorists** 1 minute ago  
Or the hundreds of people who swap tales and pictures over the Internet of ballooning body parts, or literally use balloons to alter their figure. The patron saint of these communities? Blueberry girl Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka, and I'm only partially kidding about that.

* * *

 **kodi peters** 2 hours ago  
vi hart/vi garde duet. make it happen

 **Hide replies**

 **Sandra Lopes** 2 hours ago  
One has an unique outlook towards life; the other has an unique outlook towards music. They're perfect for each other.

 **Vi 'Garde** 1 hour ago  
I will never do it. We're just way too different. I do know of a Lithuanian who might be able to, though. Let me call my mother.

 **Ginta G** 1 hour ago  
Ruta Meilutyte doesnt deserve this.

 **Vi 'Garde** 55 minutes ago  
/I wasn't talking about Rūta Meilutytė./ (Oops, I meant Ruta Meilutyte. I forgot I don't have a Lithuanian keyboard installed.)

* * *

 **Queen of the Gravity Urge** 3 hours ago  
The tale of two women who were mercilessly puppeteered before they could speak for themselves. One by Serge Gainsbourg, the other by Willy Wonka.

 **Hide replies**

 **Mike Teavee** 1 hour ago  
Come on, Wonka's not that bad. I eat his chocolate every day.

 **AJWE123** 1 hour ago  
why. they havent issued a golden ticket in literally a decade

 **Anthony Schelstrate** 1 minute ago  
That's a strange way of misspelling Roald Dahl.

* * *

 **gunpistolman** 7 hours ago  
okay but: if its italy where is the leaning tower? i call fake

* * *

 **Sava Urosevic** 7 hours ago **  
**part 9 or we riot!

 **Hide replies**

 **Vi 'Garde** 6 hours ago  
Of what?

 **Sava Urosevic** 6 hours ago **  
**hitler plays ksp of course

 **Vi 'Garde** 4 hours ago  
Godwin's Law.

 **Vi 'Garde** 4 hours ago  
Also, wrong channel.

 **Vi 'Garde** 4 hours ago  
Also, wrong timeline.

* * *

 **imer erkmenis** 6 hours ago  
no giant blueberries. disliked

* * *

 **La'Rissa Thomas** 4 hours ago  
You should collaborate with Veruca Salt (the band) at some point.

 **Hide replies**

 **Vi 'Garde** 1 hour ago  
Already did.

* * *

 **Chris Vinson** 1 hour ago  
whoops dropped the bag of fucks i give about this video

 **Hide replies**

 **Vi 'Garde** 1 hour ago  
Now that is a person I can sympathize with.

 **ninjaGuyLPA** 33 minutes ago  
yeah thats a fake vi garde account which wants our money. dislike faster than blueberry juice can fill you up

* * *

 **Thats Asbestos** 5 hours ago  
Hey, did anyone hear from that crazy Florida man who claimed he was trapped in Wonka's factory?

 **Hide replies**

 **missthing13** 5 hours ago  
no but theres a new sue mary fanfic steven tolerance u should check it out

 **Terezi Pyrope** 4 hours ago  
Florida Man just keeps getting better by the minute.

 **DrScientist812** 2 hours ago  
Is it bad that I ship Vi Garde and Florida Man?

 **leguydedoomtube** 2 hours ago  
the escapee?

 **DrScientist812** 2 hours ago  
Nah, just Florida Man in general.

 **Marrissa Roberts** 1 hour ago  
Pfft. Even Biff Tannen is a better match for her.

* * *

 **IVORIESMAN** 5 hours ago  
No, but you do not realize what Violet has been through. Even when she suffered from Wonka's hands, she managed to turn that suffering into an Olympic medal. Now, as we continue comparing her to Lithuania, she is probably going to come out with something amazing.

 **Gabriel DeAndrade** 3 hours ago  
Vi garde being gay? no wayyyy

* * *

 **FlavioGirl** 2 hours ago  
why is everything in french. I demand an English version immediately

 **Hide replies**

 **The Diggiloo Thrush** 2 hours ago  
I'm a wax doll, a sawdust doll  
My heart is engraved in my songs  
Wax doll, sawdust doll  
Am I better, am I worse than a fashion doll?  
 **Read more**

 **FlavioGirl** 2 hours ago  
if i wanted the english lyrics i would have just looked them up... i dont get anyone who just posts lyrics with no reason

* * *

 **WonkaFan100** 1 hour ago  
Violet Beauregarde, I'm going avant-garde!

 **Hide replies**

 **WonkaFan100** 1 hour ago  
Oops wrong video ;P

 **blitzerbug1** 4 minutes ago  
who even listens to gangnams style anymore

* * *

 **Jason jackson** 3 hours ago  
like if youre watching this in 1965

 **Hide replies**

 **Udo Jürgens** 2 hours ago  
So, who's excited for Eurovision '66 in Paris?

 **Vi 'Garde** 1 hour ago  
Almost correct. Now you just need to say it in French, for 100/100 more authenticity.

 **Udo Jürgens** 1 hour ago  
Dont you mean 100%?

 **Roxa Lavigne** 1 hour ago  
in french 100% is literally "cent per cent" or "100 out of 100". vi garde you clever bitch

* * *

 **Marrissa Roberts** 1 hour ago  
Like if you're watching this in 2065!

 **Hide replies**

 **Logic Editor** 1 hour ago  
Hello Imma Skepness Man Beauregarde your son from the future and the author of Portal: The Fourth-World, Marrissa of the Damned and Calliope's Support Group wanna give an interview?

 **scarred4life** 47 minutes ago  
its i strict of the learned and the haunted herbert you never even read spectators of the host did you?

 **Marrissa Roberts** 42 minutes ago  
Also: once he was adopted by crazy version of Vi 'Garde with a chewing gum company, Skepness Man did NOT TRAVEL IN TIME.

 **Jason jackson** 22 minutes ago  
like if youre eating vi gardes chewing gum company candy

 **Fleet Admiral amegabyte** 13 minutes ago  
*Beauregarde Chewing Gum Industry. and last I checked their policies they did not ship outside the Marrissaverse

* * *

 **Rossana Palma López** 7 minutes ago  
Like if you're watching this in 2015!

 **Jason jackson** 2 minutes ago  
boo. thats our year

* * *

 _Disclaimer: If you see your nickname here, I in no way claim that this is what you act like. -ASBusinessMagnet, just so you know this isn't a part of the story.  
_


	6. Rendezvous

So, anyway, here's my life update. Since the collaboration that I and Isabelle did, she agreed with me that I'm sick of traveling the world all the time, so she let me stay at her home indefinitely. Yay for family bonding.

Otherwise, though, not much has happened until this moment. I have been keeping contact with my mother, but she's not nearly as good at being famous as Isabelle is. Isabelle just knows that sometimes, you need a break from fame, and didn't try to achieve more and more ridiculous things.

By this time, I also have visited pretty much all of Paris. It is a nice modern city, with more to it than just the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. Who could have guessed? Not anyone who writes about France and hasn't lived there.

So, yeah. Why don't we skip to this particular event that sets up the rest of this snippet of my life story? Let me just get the date out of the way, so that I can narrate in the present tense, even though I have never done it before.

* * *

Monday, April 13th, 2015.

On an otherwise normal day for me and Isabelle, the door rings. She has mostly been talking with her relatives on the Internet, and furthermore, where France Gall lives is not exactly public knowledge, so no rabid fans are going to ring at her door, so we both are surprised, and go up to the door simultaneously.

I am the one who opens the door, though. It's just not in our collective style for us both to hold on the doorknob.

And outside, I see some faces that I thought I would have forgotten. In total, there are four people, and I can tell who three of them are.

Augustus Gloop is perhaps the most well-adjusted by the decade that separates Wonka's tour and the present day. He is dressed up all formal, and is no longer the fat kid that I thought I was familiar with. I can tell he's in some sort of business; I just don't know what it is.

Veruca Salt looks like she has been pulled out of a sweatshop, with a cloth covering her hair and the overall with a logo on it reading "Salts and Nuts". If anything, she is acting more serious than Augustus is, but that's all a cover made up by her parents who don't know how to be a parent. (It's a shame none of ours do, really. Maybe if I was raised by and came to the tour with Isabelle, things would have turned out differently. Maybe.)

Mike Teavee, the tallest of them, is also the most casually dressed. He is no longer two-dimensional, and that's awesome, since I have no idea how he would have existed otherwise. He is wearing a Google tee (that lucky bastard) and some shorts. Before you ask, it isn't too cold for April, since a) it's global warming and b) Paris is pretty much a Mediterranean resort, as far as I'm concerned.

Finally, the fourth person (something about him not being fourth, but rather first, except I am the first) is slightly leaning and hasn't shaved for a while. And... that's really all I can make out of him.

"Brilliant," Mike begins. "My awesomeness strikes again." Since Isabelle still doesn't speak English, she backs away.

"You have a lot of explaining to do." I cross my arms.

Mike is already taking to be the leader of the group, and begins. "Well, we have been planning to get back at Wonka for quite a time now, and we thought that only you were missing. Luckily, your video with France Gall got viral, so I figured she might know something. I asked your mother, and she led us all to this particular house. So, back to Canada?"

"Ugh, what?" I sneer at him. Veruca's best pastime is to run up to Isabelle and sing "Ella, elle l'a", since that song doesn't give her flashbacks.

"Look, Business Man, you're going with us one way or atoner... annohe... another!" With these words, I instantly recognize the fourth person as well. Just... why. He doesn't deserve to be dragged into this.

"Who is Business Man?" Augustus asks. Unlike Isabelle, learning English was actually an important part of his life, and so he no longer has the accent.

"So, yeah, that's the deal. We'll figure something out along the way. Veruca, come back here." Mike commands, once again. Veruca and Isabelle get back to the front lines of the show, and we six find ourselves outside.

"Lololohahaha." Insane Guy of DOOM (there is no reason to call him fourth anymore, since we don't really have numbers) begins laughing for no apparent reason. "The five Golden Tickee winners: Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee and France Gall."

"Good grief," I only say. It looks like I'm the biggest disappointment among the people on Wonka's tour, since I have no intent of fighting him back. It would seem that in this regard, even that kid who my mother is taking care of would be-

"Oh, and by the way, your mother is coming too with someone else." Mike rudely interrupts my thoughts. It's as if he was reading my mind. Actually, maybe he was. Who am I to tell? In the end, I am nothing more than a rabid gum-chewer.

"Alright, let me just pack my stuff and go then. Isabelle? Ils veulent, que je voyage à Calgary pour visiter la chocolaterie de Wonka." [They want me to travel to Calgary to visit Wonka's chocolate factory.] Isabelle instantly picks up on the French, and we head back to her house, so that I could pack.

She, though, patiently observes me for a while, before telling me, "Je vais avec toi." [I am going with you.]


	7. Chocolaterie

There we go again. The fairytale towers still strike my mind, as clear as ever, despite it literally being ten years later. In fact, as far as I can see from bird's eye view, not a single thing has changed about this town. Thus, as we brace for landing, I immediately begin thinking of conspiracy theories about how Wonka is deliberately keeping the economy of Calgary stagnating, so his candy can be popular at least locally.

When we get out of the airplane and onto the city, though, I decide that it's a better idea to assess the roster. The group that met together in Paris, without any warning whatsoever, is there: Augustus, Veruca, Mike, Insane Guy of DOOM, Isabelle and myself. Then, two more people approach us: my mother and that kid I met in Lithuania, who will have to accept the fact that I call him "the fake Violet". Between us, there is still so much potential for interaction, and only now I just realized that in this universe, I totally forgot I'm supposed to be friends with at least Augustus, Veruca and Mike.

At any rate, we begin the exploration like the bunch of tourists that we are. Mike takes the lead, and guides us to somewhere in the city. He tells us that he knows where he's going, and I believe him, since he is the one who came up with the plan. We all follow, except for Isabelle, who I have to additionally convince in French.

We come up to an empty plot surrounded by what looks like a 19th century garden.

Reasonably, I'm unimpressed. Mike has something to tell us about how he figured out this was Charlie's house, which was somehow moved in its entirety from here to somewhere. He also points us to a place on the map in the suburbs, where, as he tells, a house also mysteriously disappeared, and has decided that the two events are related. Everyone nods, except for poor Isabelle, who still has no idea what is going on. Veruca and I exchange a few weird glances, and everything just goes back to the tour of '05.

Having pointed us to this evidence, Mike gets us to our second place. It is a corner shop that can barely fit the eight of us, and of course, it sells Wonka bars. Mike goes on about something including how he found out that this is where Charlie got his Golden Ticket.

"So, did you trace it with your awesome algorithms and hacking or whatever?" I ask.

"No, it was actually from the interviews." Mike shrugs, and with him, everyone else follows. Except Isabelle. Boy, do I feel sorry for dragging her in. (Though, she wanted to go with me? So it's really her fault. Well, something went wrong between my mother having me, me finding a Golden Ticket and right now. I would have no idea.)

At any rate, Mike finally leads us to the gate of the chocolate factory that has given me so many nightmares. The gate is locked, though, and Mike tells us he expected this, up until we see a figure approach from the inside and give a signal to open the gate.

We all thus stand there, dumbfounded, and watch as the figure goes up to us. He looks a bit like Wonka, but distinctly younger (not any shorter than any of us is, though), and I finally realize who he is.

"Charlie." I mutter.

"Look, I knew you are coming and that you are planning something. Wonka owns the airport, and we were able to note something was going on when the people with your names bought tickets for a flight to here. And trust me, if the plan is to shut me and Willy down for good, that is not going to work out for multiple reasons." Charlie speaks, as if he knew everything, and even Mike drops his arms, admitting defeat.

"Looks like you actually started eating." Veruca remarks, and everyone but Charlie laughs. Even Isabelle joins in. I guess the contagiousness of laugh can break right through the language barrier.

"Alright, Bucket kid, state your demands, and we will try to follow them." Mike suddenly gathers himself.

"Demands? Nah. That would be something a ruthless dictator would do, or at least someone far more evil than I am. I don't want to be your enemy, I really don't. Wonka tried, and that only closed his factory down." The aura that surrounds Charlie sickens me to no end, and the only ones smiling are my mother, who wishes I was like this, and Isabelle, who doesn't know English.

"Yo Charlen, just get to the pond!" I swear, sometimes even I can't understand what MarissaTheWriter is saying, and that means something since I wrote some of those stories- I mean, er, forget what I was thinking there. If you're actually reading my thoughts, Mike. Just in case.

"Let's just settle this casually. Why don't we have something like a dinner with me and Wonka? You don't have to jump straight to hating me just for being lucky." We exchange glances, and Charlie is still there, smiling, trying to infect us with his own enthusiasm.

When that particular phase is done, Mike claps his hands. "Alright. We'll go in for dinner. But if either you or Wonka pull any stunts like last time, then we'll all be out faster than a computer can print "chocolate" a million times."

"It won't. Assuming you all have grown beyond carelessly doing stuff." Charlie turns around and begins walking the factory, and thus the green light is set for Willy Wonka's® Chocolate Factory™ Tour, Take Two: This Time With 100% Less Annoying Songs.

As we finally enter through the main door into a darkened room, the door closes behind us, likely because an Oompa-Loompa was managing it, and everything becomes pitch black.


	8. Raconte

_\- THE FOLLOWING IS AN UNPUBLISHED, EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT FROM ROALD DAHL'S UNFINISHED CHILDREN'S NOVEL "Charlie in the White House", SUBJECT TO APPROPRIATE COPYRIGHT LAWS - UNAUTHORIZED REPUBLISHING IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED - ID: RD/3/1/4 -_

 _As the lights went back on, the visitors to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory had to take some time to adjust to what they began seeing and hearing. It seemed that not only did the factory not look like the outside world, but it also looked nothing like what it appeared to be last time. After all, it had been a whole decade since their last visit._

 _There were eight visitors, who Charlie had already met, and who Willy Wonka, who was just now doing something in the Chocolate Room, got to see in person not too long after. The other four Golden Ticket winners were here - anyone familiar with Charlie's tale by now should know that they were named Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde and Mike Teavee._

 _In addition, there were four new additions to the tour. Despite the Golden Ticket winners having already grown, Violet was still insistent that Mrs. Beauregarde come with her. Besides her, there was also Mrs. Beauregarde's sister, a popular singer from the 1920s, usually known by her stage name of Trixie Trotter. She was well beyond her days of fame, but even an old lady like her could enjoy the marvels of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory._

 _Lastly, there were two teenagers, similar in age to the Golden Ticket winners, and who had been pen pals for a long time. One of them was a tourist from the Soviet Union by the name of Vasily Borisov, and the other, coming to us from Florida, was the ill-fated Guy Doombler, who also had a history as an employee of Willy Wonka's, and that was rather unfortunate. All four of these new visitors were of particular relevance to Violet, and quite reasonably, Augustus, Veruca, Mike, Charlie and the great Willy Wonka wondered what was so special about her. It was almost as if she needed more care after the incident where she became a giant human blueberry, as compared to the fates of the other children._

 _Having considered them all, Willy Wonka began introducing them. "Welcome, my dear friends. Some of you are returning, and some of you are yet to see the Chocolate Factory. For those of you who are worried since the last time, let me assure you that you all have grown for your years, and simply won't be compelled to do anything out of whack."_

 _Before he could say anything else, though, Trixie was the first to react. At first, her response "I can understand you." seemed to be only to herself, but soon enough, she put her hand over her heart and her face was twisted to an expression best described as a mixture of amazement and fright. "I can understand you! I can understand English!" Even though she was the oldest member of the group, even older than Willy Wonka himself, she had been the most shocked so far._

 _While she continued to shout, Mike was the second to speak. "You promised to not pull any tricks like these on us! I'm leaving." As he told everyone that, he was already motioning for the opposite door, leading to the outside world._

 _"Then again, do you want to leave to the outside world while our moment is still not finished?" Willy Wonka knew precisely what to say in order to make Mike stop in his tracks and not make any sort of illogical decision._

 _Yet, it would seem that it did not do anything to calm Mike down. In fact, the unrest from him and Trixie quickly and contagiously spread to the others who were on this tour. If Veruca Salt's father was around, she would have certainly told him that she wants to leave immediately. Augustus Gloop only eyed the room once more, realizing that there isn't anything edible yet, while Mrs. Beauregarde immediately put her hands on her daughter for emotional support._

 _"This is even worse than the time we lost out on getting to the Moon!" Vasily Borisov shouted in a thick Russian accent, and Guy Doombler only glared at him. It would seem that their friendship was to be lost in this very moment, in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory._

 _However, with all hope seemingly being lost, Violet Beauregarde twirled straight out of her mother's grasp and spoke her words, showing reason for the first time in the twenty years of her life. "Everyone! We, as the original members of the chocolate factory tour, know that Willy Wonka can be unpredictable at times. However, I still insist that we can have a fun time and enjoy the sights while not considering this." She even had brushed her great mop of curly hair from her eyes to make her point._

 _Suddenly, the murmurings of the crowd stopped. Vasily, having nearly confronted Guy, only gave a thumbs up to Violet. Guy Doombler nodded to him and then moved on to where Mike was, so they could act as if they were a pair of cowboys from television._

 _Finally, the only sound left in the corridor was Trixie Trotter's singing. It had been her usual song about being a doll created to present, and it was almost as if she was making an allegory to the situation. But that wasn't the case: she was simply singing her most famous song, the one which was sure to hit the hearts of many before the tour and likely many during the tour. As the song came to an end, thus a complete silence arose._

 _As all had calmed down, the great chocolatier Willy Wonka clapped his hands again, and the design of the corridor changed._

* * *

When we are actually out of whatever the hell that kind of thing was, everyone begins discussing it properly, being able to convey what they want to say without some stupid narration changing literally every single detail. Case in point: my hair is still straight, blond, not even reaching my shoulders, and complete with the purple streaks.

Isabelle, who is not and will never be "Trixie", and I have a bit of a chat about her suddenly understanding English. Turns out, she just felt that she knew what the others were saying, and would not mind the cartoony visuals for this feeling of immense glee. Well, I would mind. And for the glee, that's what actually learning foreign languages is for. And no, you're not too old to do it.

"Gotta love how you just janked that name from Back for the Future like it's yours." That kid who apparently was Wonka's employee says.

"Oh, yes. Video games. That is a story once we reach the Chocolate Room and show just how much I changed during the years." Wonka comments, and I almost fall asleep right then and there.

Knowing that no one would take the matter to their own hands, I march straight to the door behind which, as I remember, there is the Chocolate Room. Unfortunately, though, I fail to consider the fact that the door is locked, and that Willy Wonka would, once again, be in the lead. For some time.

Not that I can't one-up him and show his true colors, as I had clearly seen and exploited mine.

I thus step back from the door and wait until the fateful moment when the door is unlocked and the Chocolate Room is revealed to me in all its glory that both you and I know.


	9. Espérances

_Author's idiotisms: I need to get back to the habit of writing, and continuing this story is as good a decision that I can make as any._

* * *

Before I reveal to you what I see when the door to the Chocolate Room opens, I need to talk about expectations.

You see, during the original tour, we all were left with a definite impression of Willy Wonka, the man who has just the right personality traits to turn his imagination to reality, while remaining completely alone. This impression was best illustrated by, well, the Chocolate Room, but also permeated throughout the entire factory. (Not that I, having gone out of the tour in the Inventing Room, would know about it. Apparently I need to remind everyone that I'm Violet in the middle of an explanation now.)

However, once the word spread that Charlie was inheriting the factory, we were suddenly hit with a question: how would he change what Wonka built? Was his vision identical to Wonka's, or was he completely different?

This question is answered right then and there, as we see that the Chocolate Room has changed in a way that is... well, it's neither good nor bad. It's just different.

Sure, the chocolate river and some of the candy plant life has remained. That's one part of Wonka's that Charlie was unable to change.

But then there's "candy everything a poor man's house". (Still quoting stories that are definitely not mine. That's one habit you just cannot get rid of.)

But it's not just that. Paraphernalia from all sorts of media is around. I briefly wonder whether or not this was licensed by all sorts of companies, and I realize that it probably was, since Wonka was filthy rich. Then, though, I stop paying attention, because almost none of this stuff interests me, and turn to see how everyone else reacts.

Of course, Mike is the first one to think of something, since he is our pseudo-leader. "Wonka did it again." He concludes.

"No. I did this. It's all my fault. Please forgive me, for I have sinned." Charlie says.

Veruca, Augustus and my mother have similar "this is what we've seen, except it's not, therefore it sucks" reactions. (I'm paraphrasing, of course. The word "sucks" is probably not even in their vocabulary.) The guy of doom could also be grouped with them, but his reaction is slightly different; I realize now that he has seen the Chocolate Room changing slowly, and therefore is not as surprised.

What is really interesting, though, is the reaction of people who are here for the first time, and in particular, Isabelle. She glances around the room, almost nervously, once. Then twice. Then thrice. Then... what comes after "thrice"? Ah, forget it. The point is, she is confused.

The fake Violet, though, is not amused. All the time, she is looking at me and how I supposedly stole this sight from her ten years ago. I don't even know how we swapped bodies anyway.

Maybe today, I will figure it out. Maybe. Or maybe, like the entirety of Wonka's factory, this will have to remain a mystery.

All this time, however, there is an uneasy silence. After Mike and Charlie, no one dares say another comment about the factory, until Wonka realizes that it's enough and says: "So, no one's going to comment on what Charlie did?"

"No." I respond.

"Violet." Wonka tries to speak reassuringly, but fails. "There is nothing wrong with stating what you think."

"What if I'm not thinking anything?" I say.

"You always are thinking of something."

"Nothing that matters to you." In my mindset, my own personal thoughts are for me only. (Even though you are reading them right now? I'm weird sometimes.)

"Do not fall into the river. Do not fall into the river..." Someone other than Wonka and me says, and I realize that it's Augustus. Now I see that his facade has been broken, and he feels nervous while just being in the room.

"Do not fall into the river, you say?" Wonka interrupts the poor man's thoughts. "That serves to prove an excellent point. That's proof that you all have grown, and therefore won't be stupidly eliminated. After all, I already have my heir."

After this saying, the uneasy silence comes up again. I bet that by now, everyone (yes, that includes the people who are seeing the Chocolate Room for the first time) is thinking about the tour and how it irreparably changed the four of us.

Well, yeah, it did, I think, getting to my favorite topic: myself. But then again, I have learned to live with the legacy brought upon me by Wonka.

Before I can think of anything else, though, my phone rings. I pick it up and look at who called me, and the instant I realize it, I sigh.

It's from some company named "TripleDent Gum", and they want to use me for their advertisements.

No way, I said during the previous calls. Chewing gum is my secret vice, and you do not get to ruin it for me. Also, I don't even like your brand. Or any brand of chewing gum, for that matter. In fact, I still have been chewing that same piece of gum for ten years.

Or something. (I actually haven't chewed a single piece of chewing gum for ten years. Guess I'm just terrible at being myself.)

This time, I don't even bother saying anything and hang up immediately. Unfortunately, though, their jingle is already stuck in my head. Well, a version of it.

 _TripleDent Gum is really gross_  
 _TripleDent Gum I hate the most_  
 _TripleDent Gum I'd recommend_  
 _To none of my best pals and friends_

"Hey, by the way!" Just as I finish that song, Charlie exclaims. "Wonka and I have been working on something and you should definitely check it out!" He opens one of the doors randomly placed on the walls of the Chocolate Room, and of course, we all go through it to see what this factory has in store for us.

I don't expect anything less than disappointment from Wonka and Charlie.


	10. Stockage

As we walk down different corridors, presumably arranged specifically so that we would all get lost and be unable to exit Wonka and Charlie's factory, I can't help but let my mind wander and think about just about everything other than what's currently happening on this second tour. I mean, yeah, this second tour is cool and all and we get to see things we didn't see the first time around, but the fact is that I'm bored and want my mind to wander.

For example: right now, I'm thinking about how it all began. Of course, you have my story behind you and know what I will talk about, so there's no point in talking about it a second time, but just so you know, that's what I am thinking about, right now. Got it? Okay, we can move on.

Alright, now that "right now" has become another moment, I'm thinking about something else. Let's explore it, shall we?

Now, I am thinking about the guy of doom and how he must see everything. He is not that well-adjusted to civilization, so he is always fun to watch and unpredictable. I take my time to fully realize the fact that he has been Wonka's employee for ten years, or as long as I have been Violet...

Alright, sorry for not making sense. I have been Violet for the entirety of my life, which is something more like twenty years. If you think that somebody swapped bodies with me, you're wrong, and I'll do my best to prove that you're wrong.

Where was I? Right. The guy of doom.

...

Look, I don't even know the guy personally. I guess he tried to take the tour away from me by showing up at the street when I was walking from my hotel room to the factory, and that's about it. Let's move on and reveal that I'm thinking about...

...the corridors.

Yup. Apparently, even though the corridors are boring, everything else is even more boring, and I cannot focus.

Whatever.

Look, there's another stairway, leading down. I guess it's interesting that Wonka actually has stairways. I thought he used boats to go down to the depths of his factory, and was above stairs. I also thought that some of the Oompa-Loompas were disabled, and therefore stairs would just inconvenience them, but whatever. I'm not Wonka, and I don't know his brand of making sense.

We finally come up to a corridor that looks more like a storage area, and I sigh in relief, knowing that deep down, Wonka actually makes sense and organizes his factory like a real factory and not like a dreamscape that we're all led to believe it is. Out of curiosity, I look at what is actually being stored here, and of course, it's some candy designed to simulate the chocolate river. The river itself, including the waterfall, is on the cover on the boxes, and the text written on the boxes reads "So tasty, you'll want to fall in!"

And then I think of, and look at, the person that these candies are targeting - Augustus Gloop.

"Wonka, this is so uncool. I tried my best not to fall into the river for a second time, and you make fun of me like that?" Augustus says.

"Come on, Augustus, Wonka is not making fun of you." Charlie answers.

"That's right! I am simply capitalizing on the success that is the first chocolate factory tour. After all, the sales of my chocolate did see a boost, and the imaginations of children all over the world got to work." Wonka boasts, and I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, Wonka. As long as you're not selling giant blueberries or tiny televisions, I can get behind..." Mike trails off as he notices the next thing being stored, which is... some sort of white pedestal surrounded by a glass cage. The tagline this time is "It will get sent down your throat in a million little pieces!".

"Alright, I have to conclude: Wonka is officially out of his mind." Mike says, and we all agree, except Isabelle, who still doesn't know English. I translate what he just said to her, and she just nods. So, I guess that is an unanimous agreement, and we can move on to the next thing that is being stored.

Then I notice what this next thing being stored actually _is_ , and oh God, Wonka's not even being subtle anymore. Or maybe he still is, which means I will have to use the name of God a second time.

It's action figures of me and Isabelle, labeled appropriately. The tagline this time is in French, and translates to "Be better than a fashion doll!"

Great. So apparently, Wonka is making a killing out of the Golden Ticket winners,

"Wonka, this is so unfunny, I will-" I begin saying, but am interrupted by, out of all people, the fake Violet.

"Willy Wonka, you simply cannot use my name like that!" The fake Violet shouts.

"Your name, which is?" I respond, knowing that the fake Violet is not really named Violet.

"Violet Beauregarde? I'm not sure which angle you are approaching this question from." The fake Violet says. I swear, his voice makes the whole conversation even funnier.

"You keep claiming you're Violet. What's up with that?" Veruca asks.

"I would like to know that too. Unfortunately, his stay at my home proved nothing." My mother says.

This time, the star of the show is Willy Wonka himself. He thinks quietly for a minute or two, then, as no one - not even Charlie, who had the most time to get used to Wonka's mannerisms - expects, he snaps his fingers.

"I know what got into you two." He says, and we all (once again, except for Isabelle) look at him.

This is going to be a long ride.


	11. Révélation

We continue to move through the storage area. Wonka does turns that clearly indicate that he wants to get as close to the edge as possible, and eventually, we hit a wall. Of course. Then, we go along the wall, and I can't think of anything good about walls, so that's that.

Finally, we're met with a good ol' friend. Turns out, the wall we were walking along has a hole in it, and in the hole is none other than the Great Glass Elevator, which I have never stepped into because - you guessed it - I am Violet, and I was taken out of the tour before it reached this point. The Elevator has little space, and we're all sort of crowded, but that's okay, since Wonka tells us that it's the best way to travel around his factory.

We all thus crowd in, and he presses a button which says:

The Inventing Room.

Ah, my old nemesis, we meet again.

The Elevator shakes us left and right, and we keep falling onto each other. There is nothing to hold on to, so we have to endure, at least for a little while. Then, the Elevator finally stops at its destination and we all step out. The familiar tubes and machines greet me again, and I sigh.

"So, once upon a time I was thinking." Wonka begins talking, and I immediately sigh. "What is it about a human that makes them human? I mean, there is something I can feel about myself that is clearly not part of who I am. It's as if my senses are channeled to something that is separate from this world.

So, naturally, I began experimenting." Wonka continues, as we all are clearly not listening-

Well, we clearly are listening, but with an entirely different purpose - to find anything that can be made into a joke and, well, make it into a joke. Just listen to what is going to happen now.

"I had some success in replicating real life patterns with some of my inventions. Chocolate birds chirp as if they were real birds, and Square Candies that Look Round look cute, but-"

"Square Candies that Look Round?" Veruca chimes in.

"Yes." Wonka responds, as if it was self-explanatory.

"How can something be square while not looking square?" Veruca is clearly not satisfied with a simple yes.

"I don't know, ask Marrissa." I respond to the best of my abilities.

"Well, I wold supposay that they look around... and glance at you..." The guy of doom clearly knows that he responds to "Marrissa", _and_ has something to add to the joke. What a surprise for me.

"See? That's one person who gets it!" Wonka suddenly exclaims, and we all get to think.

While we are thinking back to the moment it was disclosed to all of us that the guy of doom worked for the factory, though, I decide to interrupt the awkward silence. "You know, that doesn't answer how a candy can look both round and cute..." I am immediately caught inside the flaw in my own logic, and trail off.

Wonka, though, ignores me and continues as if nothing happened. "So, as I was saying, both chocolate birds and Square Candies that Look Round were great experiments, but they lacked the human essence, and with that in mind, I went to what did have the human essence - that is, humans themselves." You are paying attention, right?

"That lead to a formula for a candy which could extract what is human inside of a human and store it in a simple candy. It wouldn't integrate with the candy itself, meaning that the candy wouldn't gain a personality, but the human would lose it.

Unfortunately, for a human, to lose consciousness and all memories is essentially to die, so I revised my formula to include two candies instead. Then, each candy would store the information of the person who ate it, then swap it with the other candy and put it back. Simple as that, and nobody gets to die.

Knowing that, I devised a prototype for the candies. Unfortunately, before I got to test it on the Oompa-Loompas, I lost one of the pieces to my shipping machines. It was a busy time in the Factory, after all. It was the Golden Ticket frenzy, and the Oompa-Loompas were working twice as hard as they usually do, and one of them must have made a mistake."

"Would have been really interesting if you showed off the candy during the tour." I say.

"Yeah, it would. But looks like someone ate the first candy before I could plan for it." Wonka replies.

"Did not." I answer, knowing my own history.

"So that was the first, let's call it "body swap candy" lost." Wonka continues, ignoring me. "But then I thought - hey, if the second candy is never eaten, the swap should never happen, right? So I kept it in a safe place for a long time. But then, come 2013, I lost the second body swap candy as well. This time, though, Charlie was around, and he had insisted that there should be security cameras in my factory. So, thanks to him, we got to track the candy and discovered that it was shipped to Lithuania."

At this part, lasting for less than a second, I would expect Mike's father to say "There's no such place", like he did with Loompaland. Unfortunately for me, though, Mike's father is not on this tour, and it's time for me to shine.

"Lithuania! That's where I'm from!" I exclaim without second thinking, and then have that second thinking, and then correct myself: "I mean, that's where the fake Violet is from. Well, actually, that's where the fake Violet used to be from, before... he? She? Got to live with my mother. No, wait, that would still make her - well, him, from Lithuania..." And before I know it, I'm lost in my own thoughts with no way of recovering.

"The fake Violet?" Veruca repeats what I said.

"Oh man, that was my most liked... I mean... fever-ate part of Spectators of the Host!" The guy of doom suddenly knows where my mannerisms come from, but I already know that he assumes I'm "Business Man", so that's no news for me.

Wonka, though, continues his little tirade as if there was absolutely nothing fishy going on, and I applaud his efforts. "And when I saw the news of that region about some Lithuanian kid pretending to be Violet Beauregarde, I knew how badly I messed up."

"You still haven't seen Violet Beauregarde pretending to be some Lithuanian kid, so you can't prove anything." I answer, trying my best to salvage my routine.

"Did too." Wonka answers.

"Did not." I answer just as concisely as he did.

"In fact, it was right on this second tour. You did say that Lithuania is where you are from. Ergo, you are some Lithuanian kid in Violet Beauregarde's body. And you," Wonka says while turning to the fake Violet, "are Violet Beauregarde in some Lithuanian kid's body."

"See? That's what I've wanted to prove all this time!" The fake Violet acts up.

Mike, however, has had enough of us discussing as he notices something amiss. "Wait, so am I supposed to believe that Violet ate the candy during the Golden Ticket frenzy, while the Lithu... the kid ate it in 2013, and they still got to swap bodies?"

"Excellently put, Mike." Wonka answers.

"So, one of them experienced the period from 2005 to 2013 twice, and the other skipped it?" Mike continues his conclusion.

"Perfectly described. I was in such shock to discover that I had skipped through eight and a half years." The fake Violet adds to the conversation, and I know that if I say anything that is against this conclusion, I would be called a liar, so I stay quiet.

"So what you are telling me is that you invented _time travel_ , and your first thought is "Oh my god, how can I turn that into candy?"." Mike concludes.

"Well, you know Wonka." I answer, according to my own routine which is still going on, despite being brutally disproven. "He looks at the laws of physics and is like, "Um, I know you're just a piece of hypothetical paper, but-""

"Could you stop mumbling, please?" Wonka and I simultaneously say, and in that moment, I know I've hit the jackpot.

"See? Exactly!" I say.

"So, that's it. Some Lithuanian kid and Violet Beauregarde have swapped bodies, and now that they're both right here with us in the Inventing Room, I can reverse it. Since then, I've perfected the prototype, so that nothing out of hand would happen, and kept it safe, with the security cameras ready to react when it's actually stolen, rather than when it's already being shipped to Loompaland or something." Wonka walks over to a glass cage, where two candies are stored. I vaguely remember eating something like this, but you know my memory can't be trusted anymore.

He unlocks the cage, and loud sirens begin emitting a sound. That sound, however, immediately stops once Wonka clicks on something on his cane, and the two so-called "body swap candies" can be shown to us without any interruptions. There is also something on top of the glass cage, which looks like a spray with some sort of candy water, which Wonka picks up.

"So, there you go! You both now have to eat one candy each, then I will spray on you to put you to sleep, and when you wake up, you will be back in your own bodies." Wonka explains to us.

"Alright! I've missed my own body so much, you can't believe it." The fake Violet says, then swipes one of the candies and eats it without even chewing it. (That's an out of character moment if you ask me. If I had to guess, Violet is all about chewing.)

"Ugh." I groan. "None of you believe me anyway, so I might as well shut up and accept my fate." I take the other candy, then make sure to chew it exactly once before swallowing it.

Then, Wonka sprays us both, and I immediately feel dizzy and collapse on the Inventing Room floor. "Sweet dreams, Violet and... not Violet." Wonka says.

"Business Man." The guy of doom corrects Wonka, and that is the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.


	12. Dîner

_Author's idiotisms: This chapter has been brought to you by Olanzapine Teva. More specifically, the lack of it._

* * *

Well, let's begin. I am not Violet Beauregarde.

Hmm...

...

You know that you have been in someone else's body for too long when you can't even remember your own name. What was it, anyway? Probably something lame and forgettable, for sure. Definitely not as catchy as "Violet Beauregarde". But also not "some Lithuanian kid", because that's not a name; that's just a nationality and a noun.

ASBusinessMagnet. Until I have a look at my own passport, that is the name you will have to accept to call me, as people did in my life before I went into this body swap business. I know, it sounds nothing like a real name, but that's the Internet for you.

What was my life like before the fates of me and Violet twisted into a Gordian knot? I don't know. I honestly only have a vague idea. I guess I have been writing stories, but I haven't read them in a while, so I can't begin talking about that. Mental note: re-read my own stories so that I know who I actually am. Especially whatever this "Spectators of the Host" thing that the guy of doom mentioned is.

At any rate, let's move on.

For a little longer than ten years, I have been pretending I am Violet Beauregarde, which, as another reminder, I'm not. The Wonka factory tour went on just like in the book and movies, with Violet (and not me) becoming a giant blueberry, but the later part of the ten years is where it gets interesting, with an Olympic gold medal and parodies of songs and everything.

But then, we decided to go on a second tour, and that is when the fates of me and Violet un-twisted themselves, because Wonka revealed that he was the one behind the accidental body swap, and then actually was behind the well-planned reversal of the body swap.

Which brings us to this moment, when I am observing how Violet reacts to being in her own body. At first, she notices something on her face, and Wonka, having been prepared for everything, gives her a mirror so she can look at herself. To her shock, she discovers that her actual skin is a pale blue, and if she was able to look at her blood, she would discover that it's actually blueberry juice. Trust me. I've seen her from the inside out. (Speaking of Inside Out: I have to see it soon. Another mental note.)

Well, that is interesting, I think to myself, but what about my body? Am I interesting? (Spoiler alert: no. I am just another human.) Therefore, without trying to explore my body as if it was some sort of novelty, I stand up. Violet, having had enough of her pale blue skin, also stands up, and we glance at each other.

"Alright! How are you? I mean, you should be fine, as even the prototype body swap candy worked, but I should still ask you." Wonka asks.

"Man viskas tiek pat gerai, kiek tikitės." [I am exactly as fine as you would expect.] I answer in Lithuanian. Isabelle tries to listen for French words in this sentence and fails.

"Wait, what?" Wonka inquires.

"You want me to prove that I am some Lithuanian kid. Therefore, I speak in Lithuanian." I reply, as if it was common sense.

Violet, though, runs to her mother and hugs her. I do not understand these human feelings at all.

"Anyway, isn't there a dinner thing we all are going to?" I ask, remembering what happened earlier, during the tour.

"You would be right." Charlie responds.

"You heard Charlie, everyone. Let's go to the dinner. There is no more time to waste. We already spent a lot of time looking at these two sleeping beauties, waiting for them to wake up." As Wonka says this, I briefly wonder how long I have been out. I haven't exactly looked at a smartphone in a while, and since I still have the nagging feeling that I should be Violet, at first, I fail to find my smartphone to begin with.

But that doesn't matter, as now we're retracing our steps in the Inventing Room and stepping back into the Great Glass Elevator, whose name I know for some reason that is to be explained today. We all thus crowd in once again, and Wonka presses a button called "Dining Hall".

* * *

When we get to the Dining Hall, we see a long table that could host way many more people than have currently arrived. We all thus sit down by the table at one corner. Wonka takes a seat by the very end and, as an Oompa-Loompa walks up to him, Wonka orders... something.

That something, once the Oompa-Loompa walks out and is replaced by tens of identical little workers, turns out to be chocolate cake. Of course. What kind of dinner do you expect from something that made his passion - which is candy - into his full-time job?

We thus get down to eating, and initially, no one talks during the dinner. I decide that it's for the better, but then, someone decides to speak up and ruin the moment for me.

"So, got any last questions before you leave my factory?" Wonka asks.

"I have so many questions, but none of them is worth your attention." Mike spits out.

"I am a question. LOL!" The guy of doom says, as if anyone is going to understand.

"We mostly discussed what is going on while Violet and the other kid were asleep." Veruca says. So I did miss out on a lot. That is fantastic to know.

"Actually, I have a question for the Lithuanian kid. What was his name again?" Charlie decides to interrogate me, apparently.

"Business Man." The guy of doom answers.

"Business Man. You know, during the tour and the moments preceding it, you were already inhabiting Violet's body. Yet, I didn't notice a difference between you and Violet. Why is that?" Charlie poses his question.

"Simple. I knew the script of the movie." I answer.

"The movie?" Charlie bats an eye.

"Ah, the movie, you say!" Wonka immediately realizes what is going on.

"I am very curious to hear what this movie is about." Charlie suddenly glares at his master.

"Why, the tour of the Chocolate Factory, of course!" Wonka answers. "It was shocking at first to see that my secrets have been exposed from the inside out, but then I realized that I should let the sleeping dogs lie. The movie didn't show the recipe for the Everlasting Gobstoppers, only the mere fact that they exist."

"Well, that's good to know." Mike says. "Not only we four have gotten owned by you live, but there's also a movie about it. Fantastic. I want to see this movie right now."

"Your wish is my command." Wonka asks an Oompa-Loompa for a tablet, and it comes to us a minute later. Then, Wonka turns on the movie on the tablet and gives it to Mike, who then takes the tablet and skips around the movie, just to get a general glimpse of what is going on.

The rest of the dinner thus occurs in uneasy silence, only interrupted by actors pretending to be us saying some dumb thing about chewing gum or something. (Well, not me, the guy of doom or Isabelle, _obviously_.)


	13. Directeur

Once the dinner is done and we leave the Chocolate Factory for good, we head to the hotel where we all will reside for the night. Unfortunately, since the whole body swap thing is still a thing that happened, initially, I go to the wrong room.

The rooms we occupy are as follows: Augustus goes with Veruca, Mike goes with the guy of doom, I go with Violet's mother (named Scarlett, as you might know) and Violet goes with Isabelle. So, since I used to be in Violet's body, you can guess what happens: originally, I tag along Isabelle, but when I walk up to the door and take out one of those fancy card key things that hotels have, the key doesn't work, and only then I realize I should have followed Scarlett instead.

I thus go back and head towards the room which Scarlett is heading to, and unlock the door there. We both come in, I close the door and we sit down on the bed, ready to talk.

"So, Vasily Borisov." Scarlett says.

"That is not my name." I scoff.

"Sorry. What was it that your friend called you?" Scarlett thinks about it and then is able to successfully correct herself: "Business Man."

"ASBusinessMagnet." I correct her again, as she clearly forgot. And by "forgot" I mean "never even heard the name being said correctly, since Marrissa's variant is catchier".

"Business Mag... net. I really have to congratulate you on successfully pretending to be my daughter without me noticing it." She tells me.

"Thanks." I answer, almost sarcastically.

"Well, I, too, am glad that your little act has been put to an end." Relief is shown in Scarlett's voice. "And now, you will be going back to Lithuania as if nothing happened, I presume?"

"First of all, I stopped pretending nothing happened long ago." I retort, Scarlett's words having angered me slightly. "Have you even noticed that essentially, we took this guy from Lithuania and stripped him of a proper education? I can't return to Lithuania without having graduated from high school. I just can't."

"Why not?" Scarlett asks.

"Because that's not the way it works. Because that's not the way I worked." I cryptically answer.

"Well." She pauses for a minute to think about what she is going to say, and then says it. "What are you going to do in that case?"

"Well, I still have a YouTube channel. I no longer control the personality behind her - that would be your beloved Violet - but I hope I can get in contact with her to do what I say. Think of it as me being her manager."

"That is fair enough." Scarlett says, even though I'm pretty sure she didn't understand a thing. "So, you are going to Paris then?"

"Yes." A simple yes is the one step in the right direction if we want to achieve mutual understanding.

"I will arrange the flights." Scarlett tries to comfort me.

"No need to. I am used to this sort of stuff by now." I mean, as Violet, I am. I did sort of never settle in one place for two years or so.

"Alright. In that case, good night and godspeed on your further adventures." Scarlett says.

"Good night." I shut off the lights, and we both eventually fall asleep.

* * *

We thus regroup for the flights back home, and I, Violet and Isabelle get to fly to Paris. What is the flight like? Well, it is exactly what you'd expect from a trans-Atlantic flight. Now shut up and let me finish my story.

Once in Isabelle's apartment, though, we three realize one key fact: Isabelle only knows French, while Violet only knows English and a little bit of Spanish, since apparently Spanish teaching has taken over the United States completely. That means that I will have to be the translator whenever the two want to interact, and honestly, I just don't feel like it.

I therefore pick up Violet's laptop and open up Google Translate. I set the translation mode to English to French, and type in: "I am now your simultaneous translator, ask me anything." Isabelle takes a seat to my left, while Violet takes a seat to my right, so that they both can see what is going on on the laptop.

Once the sentence has finished processing and its French translation can be seen to everyone, Isabelle asks: "Donc, tu restes avec nous?" [So, you are staying with us?]

"Oui." [Yes.] I say, while turning to Isabelle, and then turn to Violet and repeat the same sentence in English: "Yes, I am staying with you."

"Très bien." [Very well.] Isabelle says. "Je souhaite que nous pouvons faire plus de chansons." [I hope that we can make more songs.]

I want to answer with my own voice, but I am struggling with French, so I type the response on Google Translate instead: "I only needed you for that one song. Now, you are only providing me an apartment for us all to live in."

"Cela n'a pas du sens." [This doesn't make sense.] Isabelle answers. "J'ai eu l'idée pour un chanson avec Violet. Elle a seulement montré son canal en YouTube." [I had the idea for a song with Violet. She only showed her channel on YouTube.]

"Whatever." I type on Google Translate.

"So, what about me? Where do I appear in this equation?" Violet asks me, having understood nothing from Isabelle, as I didn't bother translating what she said.

On Google Translate, I type "This next part only concerns Violet." and watch as the phrase is translated. I expect Google Translate to painfully stumble and fail to consider the fact that "Violet" is a proper noun, but unfortunately for me, the translation for "violet" is the same in French, meaning that Google Translate doesn't painfully stumble and fail.

At this point, Isabelle gets what is going on, and walks away from the computer. Probably to make some tea. As I have seen from the two months when I (Violet) lived with her, she loves her tea.

Violet, meanwhile, asks: "What only concerns me?"

"The YouTube channel I created with your identity. I will want to continue it, and for that I need you."

"Well, alright..." Violet is considerably uneasy and sits uncomfortably. "I mean, if it's all about me... and I like myself and the idea that I succeed..." She takes a moment to calm down. "Alright. What are your demands?"

"Demands? Are you kidding me?" I laugh a bit, maybe sarcastically, maybe not. "We already got this over at Wonka's factory. Demands are what evil tyrants do. I am not an evil tyrant. I am just someone who is very good at pretending not to be myself."

"Oh, okay." I can still sense a separation between myself and Violet.

Nevertheless, I respond: "Now, we wait until I have an idea for a video."


	14. Dessous

_Author's idiotisms: This chapter contains spoilers for Undertale. However, this sentence should not prevent you from reading this chapter for one simple reason: It has been nearly two years. If you wanted to play Undertale, you already would have done so._

* * *

It is now sometime in October of 2015, and I and Violet are working on her YouTube channel. Not the one you saw earlier, called "Vi 'Garde", but rather a spinoff focused on video games, called "Vi 'Garde Gaming". That is the idea for a video that I thought of, and that is the show we will be taking on the road to Internet fame.

We both are thus sitting by her laptop, and I open Undertale. Why? It's the new hot thing. That should earn clicks from people visiting the channel for the first time.

"Alright, so what do we do?" Violet asks me.

"Well, first, I am going to play through the game, doing my best you impression. Then we will discuss what to add to the video that couldn't be said on the first run, and then, we will record you, playing through the game in the exact same way, doing your best me-pretending-to-be-you impression." I answer. There is just the right amount of detail in my answer: not more, not less.

"Alright. Let's do this!" Violet laughs, as the title screen for Undertale pops up, followed by its name entry screen.

"Name the fallen human. Well, let's go with my name, shall we?" I say without second thinking. I guess I have been into this Violet routine for too long, and it's still rubbing off.

"What is your name, anyway? Your real, Lithuanian name." Violet asks, and you know that I'm not answering this one.

"I meant your name. Remember, it will be you who says this line." I answer, dismissing the question just like that, and type "Violet" into the game.

* * *

" _I am TORIEL, caretaker of the RUINS._ " The game says.

"I am France Gall, the winner of the tenth Eurovision Song Contest." I say, in a mocking tone.

Unfortunately for me, Isabelle (who, well, _is_ France Gall, the winner of the tenth Eurovision Song Contest) has heard that, and comes into the room where we are playing the game. "Tu as dit mon nom de scène. Est-ce que je peux t'aider?" [You said my stage name. Can I help you?] She says, making me get up from the game.

"Non. Maintenant, je joue un jeu, et je ne veux pas que tu sois ici." [No. Now, I am playing a game, and I don't want you to be here.] I say, and Isabelle gets what I wanted to convey and leaves.

Unfortunately for me, though, Toriel doesn't leave, and instead guides me through the next part of the game. That's just what we want, anyway, with Isabelle as our Toriel and me as our Chara.

(Yes, I looked up Chara before beginning to play Undertale. This isn't about getting spoiled, but rather about making as funny and full-of-jokes a Let's Play as possible.)

* * *

We are up to Napstablook now, and I have decided to humor him, which means that he gets to show the fancy trick he can do with his tears.

"i call it "dapper blook" / do you like it..." he says, in the game.

"No. Too much like Willy Wonka." I answer the game, once again, without second thinking.

"I thought we were over what Wonka did? I mean, every bad deed we had done for him has been reversed and..." Violet wants to chime in, but unfortunately, fails to consider one key fact.

"No, it hasn't." I point out, as I select the option to threaten Napstablook. "Your blood is still blueberry juice."

"Well..." Violet says, but now, I am not paying attention to her, as I fail to dodge Napstablook's attack and die.

* * *

We - well, I - have played up to Toriel's fight now, and I decide to pause the game, as this is a good place to cut the video. (I spared her, of course. She is a goat mom and caretaker who did nothing wrong.)

"Well. What did you think of my performance?" I ask Violet.

"How are you so good at pretending to be me? I swear, you're making a better me than, well, me." Violet asks in return.

"That is roleplay to you." I retort. "Back in Wonka's tour, I did have the choice to just not take the three course meal chewing gum, but I did it anyway because I wanted to stay in character."

"And brought the misfortune upon me. I hate you." Violet says, and then corrects herself: "Just a little bit, though. That is one bad thing you did with my identity, against this entire YouTube thing and an Olympic medal."

"Hmm." I nod.

"That still brings up a point." Violet asks. "If you are not being me properly, is that a huge crime? Like, there are still things that you did with me that I would never do."

"Yes, it is." I answer. "That is called "out of character", and that means I'm not doing my job of being you properly."

"But some of those things are great things to do, and if I am not doing that, that means I'm boring, which in turn means that I'm not doing _my_ job of being... me properly." Violet points out.

"Alright." I think about it. "Maybe you're right. Maybe, even when you're in your own body, you should still be taking clues from me before you do what you - or, well, I - do."

"How do you know so much about pretending to be other people?" Violet asks the big question.

"Well... that is a good question." I smile, thinking back to the days when I roleplayed without going all in and going into the bodies of people. Violet smiles back.

"You make a great me, you know that?" Violet says. I continue to smile.

"And you make a great example of who to roleplay." I... have never done this. I am actually engaging in a romantic interaction with Violet. I didn't think I wanted romance.

But maybe, just maybe, I do, and Violet needs to get into my body again to prove that to me.

Spontaneously, we hug each other.

* * *

 _Author's idiotisms: Yes, I just shipped myself and Violet. I did mention her as my "childhood crush" in Violet and the Horrible Fanfic Writer. So, deal with it._

 _So, that is it for Violet and the Partner in Crime to Literature. Say, what would you think if I re-wrote the story from Mike's point of view?_

* * *

 _ **MarrissaTheWriter Ultimate Anthology**_

 _It's just a title, it doesn't mean anything you should care about (yet)_


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